


make, shift

by tookumade



Series: SportsFest - 2018 [9]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 06:36:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15701841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tookumade/pseuds/tookumade
Summary: At the start of the school day, Osamu walks up to Suna’s desk and picks up his pencil case. Suna watches mildly as he tips it upside down, and several pencils, highlighters, and erasers cascade out and fall rather dramatically back onto his desk.





	make, shift

**Author's Note:**

> SportsFest 2018 Bonus Round 3 prompt:
> 
>  **Ship/Character:** miya osamu  &/ suna rintarou OR matsukawa issei &/ hanamaki takahiro OR kuroo tetsurou &/ sawamura daichi
> 
>  **Prompt:**  
>  least likely to return a borrowed item: filler's pick

At the start of the school day, Osamu walks up to Suna’s desk and picks up his pencil case. Suna watches mildly as he tips it upside down, and several pencils, highlighters, and erasers cascade out and fall rather dramatically back onto his desk.  
  
“If my mechanical pencil leads break, you owe me new ones,” says Suna as he watches Osamu sift through them and sort them into two piles, apparently with no pattern. “What are you doing anyway?”  
  
Osamu collects one pile into his fist and points at it with his free hand. “These are mine,” he says. “I realised when I ran out of highlighters. You keep pinching my stuff.”  
  
“I… oh,” says Suna, impressively unabashed. “Does this mean you aren’t buying me new pencil leads?”  
  
Osamu just flicks an eraser at him (small and shaped like a sheep, and probably belongs to neither of them; Suna briefly wonders who he stole that one from) and takes his reclaimed stationery back to his desk.  
  


 

* * *

 

  
It’s the first week of winter, and Suna is meeting the other second years outside the library so they can study together. He looks up from his phone game to see the twins walking towards him. Osamu is walking slightly ahead, squinting at him.  
  
“Hey,” says Suna. “Why do you look so constipat— _oi!_ ”  
  
Osamu grabs the end of the fluffy dark blue scarf around Suna’s neck and unwraps it, before looping it around his own neck and sitting beside him, pulling out his own phone.  
  
“ _What was that for?_ ” Suna splutters, turning his jacket collar upwards in a vague attempt to warm his suddenly exposed neck.  
  
“It’s mine. I’m pretty sure you pinched it last time you were at our house; I was wondering where it went.”  
  
“ _Stingy_ ,” says Suna sulkily as Atsumu joins them.  
  
“He’s on a rampage,” says Atsumu with a sympathetic nod. “Went through my closet and took half the clothes in there.”  
  
“ _Our_ closet,” says Osamu impatiently, not looking up from his phone. “And those were _my_ clothes. All my scarves were gone; this one’s the only one I can find.”  
  
Now that Suna thinks about it, he’s pretty sure he’s stolen another grey scarf of Osamu’s too, last year. He vows to keep quiet about it, because it’s _really_ nice and warm. He’ll return it someday. Maybe. If Osamu asks. _Maybe_.  
  
“Couldn’t you at least wait until we were going home?” Suna whines. “Not everyone has your tolerance to the cold.”  
  
Osamu stops tapping at his phone for a moment, and then gives him an exasperated look.  
  
“Okay, fine,” he says, and then he takes off the scarf and dumps it on Suna’s head. Gleefully, Suna wraps his neck with it again and relishes its warmth. Atsumu rolls his eyes.  
  


 

* * *

 

  
(Osamu forgets to reclaim the scarf, and Suna doesn’t realise until he gets home. He keeps quiet.)  
  


 

* * *

 

  
The time after that, Suna watches as Osamu digs through his bag without a word and fishes out his wallet, and then pulls out a loyalty card for the bakery down the road. It has Osamu’s name written on it at the bottom.  
  
“When did I even get that?” says Suna, confused.  
  
“Beats me,” says Osamu. “Did you want anything?”  
  
“Can you get me a melon bread?”  
  
Osamu pulls out some coins, too, and then tosses the wallet back to him. “Okay.”  
  
“And here, I thought you were going to treat me,” says Suna with an exaggerated pout. Osamu rolls his eyes at him and leaves.  
  
(When Osamu comes back, he has not just one melon bread, but two of them. He drops them both onto Suna’s desk unceremoniously and returns to his own desk.)  
  


 

* * *

 

  
The next time, it’s one of their Japanese history textbooks, which Osamu takes by going up to Suna’s desk at lunchtime, wordlessly nudging him out of the way, and then pulling it from the gap under his table. It has a sticker with “Miya Osamu” at the top, and Suna pretends to not have noticed all this time.  
  
After that, Osamu reclaims his dictionary from Suna, and then a mechanical pencil Suna had managed to re-steal, and then a beanie, a roll of sports tape, a ruler, and an unopened pack of flu masks.  
  
“No wonder I didn’t remember buying those,” says Suna as Osamu stuffs the pack into his bag.  
  
After that, Osamu stops reclaiming things. Suna soon realises it’s because he’s run out of things to reclaim; he’s gotten everything back, now. So. There was that.  
  
Suna taps his pencil restlessly against his notebook. It’s a shame. It was kind of fun. And Osamu’s scarves were _really_ warm.  
  
Hmm…  
  
One morning, Suna crouches down by Osamu’s desk, and Osamu watches as he delicately unzips his pencil case, plucks out an orange highlighter and a piece of pencil lead from its small plastic box, and then takes those back to his desk. They don’t say a word to each other; Osamu barely bats an eyelid.  
  
Towards the end of lunch, Osamu’s walking back from the career counsellor’s office with Kosaku. Suna spots them, heads over, and when Osamu glances at him, he unwraps Osamu’s scarf from his neck, and then wraps it around his own. Osamu lets him without kicking up a fuss. Kosaku watches on like he’s observing a fascinating science experiment.  
  
After that, he takes Osamu’s chemistry textbook. It’s for his own good—he’d just sleep behind it during class, otherwise. Over the course of the week, Suna also takes Osamu’s roll of sports tape again, his nail file, an expired coupon for ramen from Osamu’s wallet (neither can explain this one), and then his earphones.  
  
Osamu takes them back, one by one—even the expired ramen coupon.  
  
They keep going: Suna borrowing things—usually blatantly—and never giving them back, and Osamu watching him take the things in exasperation, and then retrieving them with more patience than Suna would expect. He never actually tells Suna to stop. Its’s an odd push-and-pull, and it’s… it’s kind of nice, actually. To their friends who watch on, it’s somewhat bewildering—Atsumu barks that Osamu ‘ _never lets me borrow his stuff like that, what the hell, man, I’m your brother!_ ’—but no one actually ever says anything about it.  
  
They keep going.  
  
At the end of a Friday, Suna sits comfortably wrapped up in Osamu’s warmest scarf, as he waits in their classroom for him to come back from seeing their English teacher, so they can walk home together. He’s flipping through Osamu’s chemistry textbook, tapping on his notebook with a mechanical pencil of Osamu’s, and a green highlighter he’d also pinched beside him. When Osamu comes back, Suna looks up.  
  
“I forgot to borrow your earphones, so lend them to me next time, okay?”  
  
Osamu snorts. “Get them yourself.”  
  
“Mm. Yeah, I’ll do that,” says Suna thoughtfully. He watches as Osamu plucks the mechanical pencil from Suna’s hand, and puts it and his highlighter back into his pencil case. He reclaims his chemistry textbook, and leaves Suna’s notebook for him to deal with.  
  
“It’ll be spring, soon,” says Suna as they shoulder their bags and begin heading out the classroom. “Do you want your scarves back?” Scarves, plural. Suna has two or three, last time he checked.  
  
“Hmm…” Osamu shoves his hands into his pockets. “I’ll grab them off you next time I go over to your place.”  
  
“My pencil case is really full.”  
  
“I’ll get my stuff back on Monday.”  
  
“I have two copies of our history textbook.”  
  
“Monday.”  
  
Suna looks over at him, and Osamu meets his eyes for the briefest of moments. “I’ll probably borrow one of your caps when it gets sunnier.”  
  
“Only one of them?”  
  
“Good point. That’s okay, right?”  
  
At this, a smile twitches at Osamu’s mouth, and he nudges Suna in the ribs. “Sure.”  
  
“And I’ll probably borrow—”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
They exchange looks again: Suna, mischievous; Osamu, exasperated but patient.  
  
It’ll be spring, soon. Suna’s looking forward to it.


End file.
